13 Year old Johnny from Nashville sent me this one. It’s a very good question, one that people have been asking for hundreds, maybe thousands of years. From Plato, there is the “Ring of Gyges” scenario. The question: would we, as humans, maintain our morality if we were to become invisible? And as far as flight…well, everyone who has ever lived has obviously wanted to fly, Johnny; we dream about it all the time, and in Mesopotamia, there have been carvings found of mythological Superman figures, dating back to at least 2,800 B.C. The answer, Johnny, is quite complex, but in short: you’re a goddamned little idiot. Have you ever heard of these things?

Even dogs have figured this shit out, Johnny, for fuck's sake.

OK. Now how far along are we on the invisibility suit, Johnny?

At best, some shit like this. And this is post Photoshop, too. I don't know about you, Johnny, but I can quite easily spot the man in this fucking picture.

If you thought about it a little harder, Johnny, you would realize that if you chose invisibility, you could easily sneak your way into banging Michelle Rodriguez, Kim Kardashian, Eva Mendes, Jessica Alba, Rihanna, Catherine Zeta Jones, Oprah (to each his own, OK, readers?), Jessica Simpson, and many others, stealing all their money, and simply contributing to the badly-needed research funds for the development of a better rocket pack.

The answer is invisibility, Johnny. You’re obviously not the brightest star in the galaxy. Please never email me again.

Have a hypothetical question that you find intriguing? Is it one that has been debated for years? I’m the guy to make your answers come true! Email me at absenteedaddy@gmail.com. I’m a certified advice columnist and former Chair of the Philosophy Department at U.C. Berkeley.

I answer all questions ever.

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Silly cat pictures. It didn’t take long after the internet really exploded onto the world scene for silly pictures of cats to come along and infect the entire thing, like a highly malicious, mind-controlling virus. Toxoplasmosis, perhaps. The primary culprits were “lolcats,” which were born somewhere in the bowels of the 4chan forums, one ominous Saturday, or “Caturday,” morning circa 2005, best anyone can tell.

But did you know that extremely silly cat pictures have been around for a very long time? The infamous lolcat memes, with their patented, silly, anthropomorphised pictures of cats aren’t nearly as new as you think. The man who really first nailed the nauseatingly cutesy formula as we now know it was a photographer named Harry Whittier Frees, an American photographer who lived from 1879-1953.

Frees dealt primarily in postcards and children’s books, wherein he dressed cats and other animals in human clothes, posed them in human situations with props, and captioned the photos with old timey versions of things that passed for hilarious back then. Although he dealt with various species, for Frees, it all began and ended with cats.

He was sitting around the dinner table with his family in Audobon, Pennsylvania, back in 1906, when one of the family members passed a paper hat around the table. Each family member took turns wearing the hat, until the hat reached the family cat, at which point Frees rapturously cried “Eureka!”, assembled his old timey camera, and it was thus that silly cat photos were born, for the masses.

And it was Good.

Frees worked hard at his newfound calling in life, and ended up making quite a good living off of his silly animals dressed as people photos. He borrowed his four legged subjects from friends and neighbors, and actually found them quite difficult to work with: for instance, flies were terribly distracting to cats, making for especially difficult photo shoots, and so he had to make sure there were no flies in his studio when doing his old timey shoots. He worked only 3 months out of the year. The rest of the year, he actually spent recuperating from his epic cutesy animal shoots, and meticulously planning the details for his next shoots. As you can see, some of them were, apparently, extraordinarily involved, to the point that they likely did require 9 months of post-shoot recuperation.

His exposures were taken at 1/5th of a second, and two-thirds of the negatives had to be discarded. Over the course of his career, Frees became quite the expert in anthropomorphised animal photography. Noting that:

“Rabbits are the easiest to photograph in costume, but incapable ot taking many “human” parts. Puppies are tractable when rightly understood, but the kitten is the most versatile animal actor, and possesses the greatest variety of appeal.”

(Note that the above caption is Frees’, not mine. Apparently, pigs really areextraordinarily difficult to work with, when it comes to playing dress up. A hard, cold fact that Frees, along with all my ex girlfriends, certainly came to find out.)

Yes, back in the olden days, a photo such as this one–

–-most likely had people laughing out loud, since back then all it took to elicit uproarious laughter from children and simple-minded adults was a picture of a cat dressed as a human asking an amusing question. These days, of course, humor has taken on a much more sophisticated nature and-

–-OK, actually, disregard that last part. Some things never change, it seems.

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Jesus H. Christ. When I first started absentee dad blogging a couple months ago, I had no idea what a pain in the ass it can be to keep updating your blog on a regular basis. While it’s true I don’t have the kids consuming all my time anymore, there’s still shit like jail. Jail really fucking cuts into your blog time.

So for the second time in coming up on 3 months, I ended up in Cook County Jail, the goddamned greatest shit hole of a jail in all the U.S., trust me, readers.

This place is NOT Search Engine Optimized. At all. Trust me.

Another complete bullshit case, of course. My slum landlord was sort of letting this former tenant squat in the garage behind my apartment building, because he had just gotten out of jail, himself, and had no where to go. Long story short, I was cool with this guy squatting in the garage out back, being the extremely laid back kind of guy I am. I was so cool with it in fact, that I invited him in for a few beers here and there, mostly when I was shit-faced drunk. Big mistake. I woke up a couple mornings and found some shit missing (my backpack, my Fender, few other things). This pissed me off. So the next time I got drunk, instead of inviting him in, I went out back and kind of pepper sprayed him in the face. I don’t remember any of this, how I got the pepper spray, why I had it, or why I decided to be such a sissy about it. I admit that it was probably a sissy move to pepper spray him like that, but seriously, readers, this guy is about 250 pounds, and kind of crazy, so I probably didn’t want to take any chances.

Anyway, again, long story short, the whole thing turns for an unbelievably audacious twist when he has the nerve to calls the cops on me. So, best I can piece things together, the cops showed up at my doorstep, with this guy obviously freshly-pepper sprayed and claiming to be a tenant of the building, which isn’t true, because he’s really a thief-squatter who just got what he deserved. But it was my shitfaced drunk word against his at that point, I guess, so he won, and I got the silver bracelets.

Now let me tell you about Cook County Jail for a minute, readers and fellow bloggers. I can say, with authority and a decent amount of experience, that it is the most inconvenient place to be when you’re due for a blog update.

The first 24 hours are the worst. That’s when you’re in the holding cell, or the bullpen, as it’s so affectionately known.

Like this, but with no women at all. And literally, 12 times more crowded. They only let the cameras in when things aren't atrocious.

Actually, you’re not in just one bullpen, but slowly being paraded through about 4-5 of them. You and dozens upon dozens of other unlucky people are in intake, getting processed into the system– basically, the state is sifting through all of you, sorting you out, categorizing you, assigning you numbers, figuring out who you are and where you belong in the Great Iron Bar Castle.

In Cook County, what this means is that, for that 24 hours or so, you’re packed in with a hundred sweaty, usually quite dirty, often-times vomiting and bowel-evacuating(due to heroin withdrawal) people, some of them murderers, some of them minor offenders or actually-innocent people (like myself, of course, as usual)– the thing is, you don’t know who any of those people are, because the state is still in the process of figuring that all out, assigning the murderers to go here, the shoplifters to go there, the kids who got caught with bags of weed to go there…etc.

This takes the form of being called out of the bullpen, one, by one, by one, every 10 minutes or so, all fucking 100 of you, for hours on end, standing room only, cockroaches scurrying around, fights breaking out, gang members quickly forming allegiances, people vomiting all over themselves, others shitting in the one open-air toilet in the bullpen’s corner (don’t like the idea of going to the bathroom in front of people, fellow bloggers? Well, you’re just going to have to give up that aversion the day you end up in Cook County Jail.) You go through all of this, your name is finally called, a C.O opens the cell doors–

He won't let you blog.

–you walk up to a clerk at a desk who stamps a number on your arm, finally, you think, you’re going to get your shower, your hot and a cot….and then…they walk you to another bullpen, with an all new cast of inmates, where you start the whole process over again.

Just multiply what I just described by about 6, then imagine not being able to update your blog on top of it, and you’ll get an idea of how fucking horrible it is.

Long story short, again, I ended up in Division 2, which is good, because that’s where all the innocent inmates g0, the ones who won’t likely stab you. 2 is actually a big dorm-style deck–

No stylish themes to choose from. Very few visitor stats to obsess over...visitor hours are actually extremely limited. Just insufferable, trust me.

–bunk beds and all that, as opposed to the usual two-man cell deal. A lot more freedom. But again, blog updates completely out of the question. Your readers are just shit out of luck.

Look, I’m tired of typing about it. Final long story short: I plead not guilty to a battery charge, court date on April 4th, and that motherfucker better not show up, I swear to God.

I’m just glad to be home, back to my readers. And back to beer and cigarettes. One last thing, that first cigarette is really fucking harsh after you get out, readers and fellow bloggers, it smokes long, harsh, but sweet, kind of like the first blog update, if I do say so myself.

At any rate, let me get out of here. Oh yeah, I actually received 2 responses to my “cat picture competition” thing. God, it seems like I posted that months ago right now. One of them was actually really good, so I’m going to post it. A reader who would like to be known as J.H. submitted an article featuring a lot of cat pictures. I have to say, he did actually come up with a fairly dignified means by which to get cat pictures on this blog. And so, J.H. wins the cat picture competition. As promised, I will post J.H.’s article on here, probably tomorrow. I will not, however, pay J.H. the 8 dollars that I promised would go to the winner of the cat picture competition, because I’m fucking broke. Sorry, J.

(Speaking of that, if you clicked on this article actually expecting WordPress blogging tips, you’re an idiot. But I feel as though I should deliver in some way, so here’s my tip: don’t have your blog on WordPress when you get incarcerated, in the first place. Have it on Blogger. Be incarcerated for something really fucking controversial and newsworthy. Have your blog AdSensed to high hell. Pray the ad dollars accumulate to the point where you’ll be able to get yourself something nice from the prison commissary. Like, maybe a ham sandwich, or a bottle of juice.)

Gloria from Syracuse sent me this one. First of all, I’m just going to ignore your question, because it’s pretty much just stupid.

Moving along then, I feel as though it’s time that I announce the Daddy award for best actress: Michelle Rodriguez. For those who don’t know, Michelle Rodriguez is a shitty actress with a decent face and a hot body whose range stretches precisely this far: either tough, no nonsense bitch, or tough, no nonsense bitch with a little bit of a soft side.

That’s it. She admits this in interviews, she’s proud of it, she pretty much just sucks as an actress but, again, she has a hot body, and she’s extremely sexy in her two dimensional, hell bitch way.

Michelle is my fantasy girl. If I had had children with Michelle instead of Cindy, things would definitely be different, because Michelle wouldn’t have ever let me run off to begin with. Here’s a video of Michelle Rodriguez in some airport, wheelchair-bound for some reason. . If you’ll notice, someone pisses her off at one point in the video:

That’s what happens when you look at Michelle wrong. When she’s in a wheelchair. Imagine if you knocked her up and tried to run out on her. She would literally kill you. Although I am enjoying my child and wife-free life right now (immensely), I have to say, there’s a masochistic side to me that wants Ms. Two Dimensions to just take control of this Absentee Daddy and never let go. Now here is a short video of Michelle being angry and vulgar for some other reason:

What you saw there was some cocksucking paparazzi asking Michelle about the recent community service she had completed, on account of her being arrested all the time. Fairly awesome, I think we can all agree. And, hot, as well.

Now Meryl Streep was in what? Sophie’s Choice or Taxi Driver or some shit? And Vanessa Redgrave…Sound of Music? Gone With The Wind? The original Jazz Singer? Hell I don’t know. Tell you one thing, though, I doubt either of them knows what it’s like to do jail time. Michelle and I share that. And I bet neither of them has ever been caught on camera screaming anything along the lines of:

These are the kind of qualities that make for Daddemy Award material, from where I see it. So please, no one ever bother emailing me about actresses again, because the answer will likely be: Michelle Rodriguez, that hot, spicy little tomato.

Hope that helped, Gloria.

Have a question regarding le cinema? Daddy’s got you covered! Email me at absenteedaddy@gmail.com I’m a certified advice columnist and former movie critic. I put Roger Ebert and Pauline Kael to shame. Combined.

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I’ve noticed that a lot of bloggers– mom bloggers especially, of course– use this strategy of having giveaways and competitions and shit to increase blog traffic or whatever it is they’re doing. At first I thought to myself, “No way I’ll ever do that. I’ll take my 100 hits a day to the fucking grave with me before I pull some shit like that.” Plus there’s the fact that I don’t have anything to give away, really.

But see, after that last post, Question #26, where I definitively answered the question as to whether cats or dogs are better, I received quite a few messages regarding cats. Some of them were from the staunchly pro-cat camp, demanding, of course, that I reconsider my stance on the cat/dog question. These people are, of course, wrong, though they will, tragically, never realize it.

A few emails were in support of my obviously spot-on assessment of the cat/dog question.

But by far, the largest number of emails I received regarding Question #26 involved the Cat Picture Counter, which, again, you’ll find just to the right, and is currently at 1 (again, that photo of the unilion did not, in fact, count as a cat picture in any way). It turns out people feel as though that Cat Picture Counter needs to rise in number, despite the fact that 18 percent of the internet does already consist of cat pictures, and despite the fact that cats are evil pony murderers, as I recently explained to 7 year old Mandy.

Well, fine. 6 people spoke, and Daddy listened.

Now don’t go getting used to this, but Daddy’s willing to make a compromise. If the people want cat pictures on this blog, then the people are going to have to earn it.

So here’s the deal. I will allow more cat pictures on this blog, but only if someone can propose a non-vapid, stylish, hopefully educational and highly creative way of justifying the presence of those cat pictures. Let me be clear: this is no easy task. Should you succeed in convincing me with your proposed approach to getting pictures of cats on this blog, I will literally publish you on this blog and Paypal you 8 dollars*. This is not a joke. So put on your cat thinking caps, and email me at absenteedaddy@gmail.com, for your chance to win credited publication on this prestigious blog, which has, like no other blog, been answering all questions ever, since December, 2010.

*8 dollar reward subject to change without notice. Certain restrictions, limitations, and exclusions apply. Offer void where prohibited. Absentee Daddy reserves the right to accept or deny any proposed Cat Picture Counter scheme and accompanying promised 8 dollar reward portion of offer. Offer not valid in Kentucky, Hawaii, North Dakota, New York, Chicago, California, Germany, Africa, any where north or south of the Mason-Dixon Line, Italy, Mumbai, Australia, Portland, Akron, Helsinki, the decent parts of Newark, or the Andes.

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7 year old Mandy from Cedar Rapids sent me this one. First of all, you realize you kind of defeated the entire purpose of an advice column, don’t you, Mandy? Here’s the general model: person X asks a knowledgeable, trustworthy, credible source (myself) a question, and in return, receives a well-considered, rational, helpful answer. Person X does not, Mandy, ask the question and then provide his or her own answer to the question at the same time. You’ve already fucked this all up, Mandy, before we’ve even begun, and, considering that you’re only 7 years old, this does not bode well for your future. But OK, I’ll bite.

If you’ll notice, over on the right, I have a Cat Picture Counter on this blog. Right now, we’re at 1, which is the unfortunate and unavoidable result of an incident involving the necessity to display a photo of Schroedinger’s Cat, in order to explain gravity to that Chinaman spy in question #13 .

A few people have written to ask me, “why are you so reluctant to put pictures of cats on your blog?” Well, one reason is due to the fact that for some reason, pictures of cats and kittens make up approximately 18 percent of the entire internet. The rest is basically porn, in all its myriad forms. Actually, even the endless kitten pictures are basically porn; cute-and-cuddly porn. Kitty porn.

(Imagine a picture of a basket full of kittens right here)

You see how disgusting that is? Cats and kittens have gotten an unfairly good rap on the internet, I believe. They have also stirred an inordinate amount of amusement among internet-going idiots, such as yourself, Mandy. It doesn’t matter how old you are, Mandy– if you honestly think that cats are better than dogs, then you’re obviously just an immature little moron, because any thinking adult knows that dogs are way better.

Now, here is a picture of a dog:

As you can see, very dignified, suave, cool, gives an aura of confidence and professionalism. Now, by comparison, this is a picture of a cat:

(Now, this does not actually count as a picture of a cat, for all you nitpickers out there crying “That’s a second picture of a cat! Add one to the cat picture counter!” No, you idiots. If you’ll look closely, it’s a unilion. But they are very closely related to cats, and, for all intents and purposes– and in the interest of providing accurate information to 7 year old Mandy– are basically no different).

Now as you can see, Mandy, while dogs are great and sophisticated and belong in the next episode of Madmen, cats, on the other hand, are brutal, barbaric, evil, cold-hearted murderers of everything. Including ponies. Because, in case you don’t know what that thing in the above picture is that the unilion is mercilessly maul-murdering, well, it’s a pony, Mandy. You know what ponies are, right? You probably want one, even. Here is a picture of a pony, Mandy:

Have a pet-related question? Are you not a little dumb dumb ruining the traditional advice columnist structure by sending your answer bundled with your own question, like a complete jackass? Then email me at absenteedaddy@gmail.com. I’m a former veterinarian and certified advice columnist.

I answer all questions ever.

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That’s my baby girl! Told you she was 6 times worse than my son! Smart and vitriolic little 11 year old (sorry I forgot your birthday, honey) bitch she is, isn’t she? Well well well, it appears the gloves are off then, aren’t they, Darla? I especially enjoyed your prodigious use of this new word “fucktard.” That’s something the kids are saying these days, I suppose? I must say, Darla, for all your obvious potential as a writer, especially given your age, you actually appear to have a bright future in a career far more base than that of stripper/whore: Search Engine Optimization writer. The keyword density on “fucktard” up there leads me to believe that you’re starting a new line of clothing called “Fucktard” or something, and that perhaps you’re trying to plug it on Daddy’s site? Hm?

You know what, Darla? I’m not going to stoop to your little level of immaturity…

I’m actually going to tunnel down beneath it, pop up in your bedroom when you’re sleeping, and fucking end you, sweetie.

First of all, who’s the “fucktard?” here? You chided me for having criticized your older brother’s spelling and grammar in the letter he sent me a few weeks ago, and then immediately went on to make a grammatical error yourself.

“You have no right to judge Connor’s grammar or spelling, because your a total loser deadbeat fucktard.”

No I’m the one who knows that your is a possessive pronoun. You’re the little girl-imbecile who was trying to use the contraction, “you’re,” for “you are,” as in “you are quite the precocious, yet fatuous little loser-baby (term coined by Corinne Maier) who clearly has some serious Daddy issues she needs to work out.” You’re obviously a fucking mental case, Darla, and I suggest you ask Mom about seeing a psychiatrist. I don’t know where I went wrong in raising you, but I see now that you are nothing more than a ticking time bomb of absolute failure, disgrace, and abject disappoint who will, one day soon, ingloriously and magnificently explode across the night sky that is life, like the grand finale of a spectacularly whorish fireworks display.

There is a tear quivering precariously in my eye, right now, Darla. You’ve made your father cry.

Now, concerning the fact that you’ve begun menstruating. I have no idea why you’ve begun menstruating at the age of 11. I’ve heard that girls have been getting their periods earlier and earlier these days, but I didn’t realize it could come this early. At any rate, your bringing up of your first period has made Daddy uncomfortable, sweetie, and unsure of what to say, so let’s just chalk it up to you being a freak of nature. Because you obviously are.

In regards to your little low blow about my education (or lack thereof), I did, in fact, attain my high school diploma equivalency, for your shitty little information. And nice try on attempting to “pull the curtain up” on Daddy’s lack of Advice Columnist Certification. I studied under Dr. Gerhard Gritzleshcleiben for nearly 1 whole year, which means far more than some piece of paper that anyone can easily buy from any number of shady advice columnist certificate mills that are out there. You’re a vicious little harpy, princess. But you know that, don’t you?

And speaking of questions, since you challenged the Question Master to answer your Best 5, let’s rock and roll:

“Lets see if you can answer those questions, loser. I fucking hate you.

Question #1: How do you feel about the fact that I’m going to start fucking soon?”

Just try to use protection when possible, sweetie. If you start soon, there are condoms marketed to 14 year olds now, such as the Ceylor Hotshot Condom (and no, Darla and readers, I’m not trying to sell children’s condoms on this blog….yet. It’s a link to the news story). But being that you’re only 11, I’d recommend that you do, in fact, start out with an older boy, say, 14, one who will likely be more capable of properly using a condom.

“Question #2: Are you ready to be an absentee grandpa? Because I have made it my life mission to make you one just to haunt your dreams.”

I’m fairly confident that you won’t manage to get yourself pregnant before the age of 13, pumpkin. Within the next 2 years I plan to be well south of the border, somewhere, in my never-ending quest to flee you, Connor and Mom, and to successfully cut off all contact with the lot of you. So my question for you is: if someone becomes a grandpa, and they never even find out, are they really a grandpa?

“Question #3: After I have a kid, I am purposely going to date shitty boys all because of you. My #1 goal in life is to find a boy who is also a hitman, so I can use my pussy as ransom to have you murdered. Does this scare you?”

Please don’t refer to your vagina as your “pussy,” honey. That is extremely uncouth, young lady, and I will be telling your mother about this.

“Question #4: Do you still go to strip clubs all the time? Because if I don’t succeed w/ my 1st goal, then my 2nd goal would be to have it so you walk into a strip club someday and pay for a lapdance from a stripper and then it turns out to be me, just to really fuck with your head.”

Yes, I do still go to strip clubs when I can scrounge up a few extra bucks. And again, a question for you: if a man never knows that the pretty young stripper on his lap is actually his daughter, is it really his daughter?

OK, so I guess it would still be his daughter. That was a stupid riddle, and I do acknowledge that. But please don’t do that to Daddy, OK, sweetie?

“Question #5: I’m not even sure that what ur doing to us with ur blog is even legal, but in case it ever gets popular for some fucktarded reason, Mom told me all about Gloria Allred today. Does THAT scare you?”

So you got me on 1/5. Gloria Allred does scare Daddy. So fine, that one goes to you.

So the official tally: Darla: 1. Daddy: 4. Looks like I opened up a can of tooshie-whoop all over your little skank ass, didn’t I, poopsiekins? Please come back and try again.

Love,

Daddy

P.S.- Bring that edgy ex-stripper Mom Blog you have planned right the fuck on. You say you’re hoping to be like “Cody Diablo.” Well, I doubt you’ll succeed, since you failed to even do the basic Google search that would have made you realize that her non de plume is actually”Diablo Cody,” not “Cody Diablo.” Idiot. But even if you do succeed, Daddy will fucking digitally eviscerate you, Boo Bear. This he vows.